


A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

by tomorrow_comes



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Art, Friendship, Love, M/M, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 08:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomorrow_comes/pseuds/tomorrow_comes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire has always found it hard to communicate his feelings through words. Using art instead throughout his whole life, he quickly rises to fame. When a young activist comes into his life, is art enough to communicate? Modern AU/One shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Picture is Worth A Thousand Words

**Author's Note:**

> Based on another prompt I was sent. This turned out more angsty than I had originally intended, and with not as much dialogue, but it fits Grantaire's personality here better. I hope it doesn't bother anyone too much. Again, feedback is very much appreciated, but not forced.

Grantaire was never good with words. He knew it, his family knew it, and his friends knew it. Trying to express himself vocally came with difficulty, and hence came an outward appearance of one who did not wish to socialize with anyone around him. To an outsider, he was the quiet, apathetic member of his boisterous group of friends. He found the process of finding the words to express himself difficult, the addition of being shy and easily embarrassed by himself never helping.

One thing was clear though. That which Grantaire could not express through words, he could through art. From his toddler years, Grantaire’s mother knew he would grow to have a talent that should be recognized around the world. Playing with the arts and crafts she would set out for her three year old, she often observed how the young child would easily become frustrated when he could not successfully create as he wished. Resulting in this, she had boxes full of artwork, which clearly reflected the mood of the boy to anyone who looked at it. Encouraging him as he grew, the artistic talent he held developed more and more, soon becoming Grantaire’s favorite means of communicating his feelings.

At the age of 12, he could not openly express to his parents his jealousy over his four-year-old sister. Rather, he gave them a collage of images he had found representing jealousy. Without even a word spoken, they knew exactly what their son was trying to say to them. At 16, he did the unthinkable and came out to his parents with once again a picture. This time, it was that of two hands enjoined by a gay-pride rainbow flag at the head of a table of happy, accepting family members, clearly members of their own family. The message served its purpose, and Grantaire began to really realize the power that his art held.

When the time came to go to university, he decided he wanted to leave his Paris home and find himself in New York at the Parsons University. It was a very good school, which was also opening a new campus in Paris. His parents happily allowed him to leave for New York with his promise that he would return in 2 years to finish his degree at the Paris campus.

His first semester at the school, his teachers knew he was something special. They couldn’t let his talent pass by unnoticed by the masses. With high recommendations from the school’s professors and dean, the city of New York soon hired him to open an exhibit of artwork, which could represent their “great city.”

The exhibit is a great achievement, and as the story of its origins spreads to Parson’s Paris campus, he’s suddenly sent home free of charge, and with enough college credits achieved by the exhibition to be equal to those in their third year of university. I guess I really will end up spending my last two years of university back home, he thinks as he steps off of the plane. He’s been sent back not only because he wants to spend the last two years at home, but because he’s been asked by Paris to put on an exhibition like the one in New York, but about all of France. He knows it’s going to take a long time, but they say they’ll give him his degree after it’s done, and pay him extra.

He takes the job, looking forward to once again lose himself in his artwork.

One year later, the exhibition is a national success. People come from all over the country and world to see this famous exhibition. However, it caused quite a stir too, as many people noticed that some of the pictures, though completely accurate, opened the public’s eyes to the unjust that was taking place in France. News reporters came from around the country to report on the exhibition, and the government did all that they could to cover up their mistake of letting this unfairness reach the eyes of the public. It also reached the eyes of activists who came to see the exhibition and use it as evidence of the validity of their causes.

Such was the night when Grantaire first saw him. The night that changed everything. While Grantaire adored the process of creating the artwork, he could not stand the exhibitions. As the only artist whose work was being displayed, and with such a hype about the exhibition, he was constantly being asked for interviews. They probably think I’m an idiot from how that just went, Grantaire thought as he finished the latest “expose” about his work. He was standing in the corner avoiding more questions when he saw him come in. It was a rather serious looking man. While completely serious on the outside, he possessed a youthful quality that was reflected in all but his demeanor. As more of an observer than one to take part in conversations, Grantaire had grown very good at reading people simply by looking at them. Therefore, he could tell that no matter how hard he tried to act older than his age, this man couldn’t have been much older than Grantaire. He found this man intriguing in a way that he could not take his eyes off of him. His curiosity increased even more as he saw his good friend Courfeyrac walk in behind the mystery man, clearly acquainted with him.

Sneaking behind one of the curtains used to separate different parts of the room, Grantaire waited for his friend to walk by his hiding spot before alerting him of his presences.

“Christ, R! What are you doing back there? You know that I don’t like being surprised, it causes me stress, which could give me premature wrinkles!” Courfeyrac’ endless talking was without a doubt all that was needed to make up for Grantaire’s lack thereof.

“Sorry Courf,” Grantaire did feel bad- Courfeyrac was one of his oldest friends, and probably one of the most understanding, especially after he came out. “I saw you talking to that guy you came in with…” Grantaire trailed off, hoping Courfeyrac knew him well enough to guess what he was getting at.

“I’m sorry? I don’t follow Grantaire…” While he knew that Courfeyrac could sometimes be oblivious, he also knew his friend well enough to know that he was just trying to get him to say it out loud what he wanted. However, he also knew Courfeyrac well enough to know that this was a battle he wouldn’t win.

“Courfeyrac,” Grantaire found that when he did in fact have to get his message across clearly, being clear and slow worked best. “I saw you knew the man you walked in with,” a deep breath, “and I was wondering if you would please tell me who he is.”

“It’s okay R, don’t be embarrassed. He’s here to see you actually. His name is Enjolras, and he’s actually a very good friend of mine- I met him while you were away. We met at school, and we’re all apart of this group that he leads. He tries to tackle different problems.

“So he’s another activist.” Grantaire could feel his hopes drop. There had been many activists passing through the exhibition, and they all wanted one thing: to make a statement. None of them cared about anything except what his art could do for their causes

“Yes, Grantaire, he’s an activist, but not like the one’s you’ve probably been meeting here all week. I’m an activist, and you still like me, correct?” Courfeyrac was going to win the argument. He knew it, and so did Grantaire.

“Well yes, but-“

“No butts Grantaire, you know how much I love them, however, I rest my case, and you should go talk to Enjolras!”

Spluttering, Grantaire responded, “First of all Courfeyrac, did you really have to make that into a joke? And second, can you please introduce us?”

“Alright friend, let me just put you in front of one of your paintings which I know Enjolras is particularly excited about seeing, and I’ll go get him.”

Standing in front of one of his paintings that depicted the bad living conditions of an orphanage in the outskirts or Paris, Grantaire waited nervously for Courfeyrac to bring Enjolras to him. Despite knowing he was attracted to men, and being open about his sexuality, Grantaire always found difficulty in talking to men outside his group of friends. He had often seen other classmates of his whom he admired, but never truly acted on his feelings. Now though, with Courfeyrac being friends with the person he had his eye on, Grantaire knew he had to summon his courage and speak with the man. He would not let this opportunity pass.

Courfeyrac was now approaching with Enjolras. The serious look that had graced his face as he entered the exhibition was still present, but now with a look of wonder as well. Oh great, he probably wants me to work for him and his stupid causes now.

Enjolras, this is Grantaire, the artist of all these magnificent photos. Grantaire, this is Enjolras, leader of Les Amis De L’ABC. Personally, I think he should be apart of your exhibition- he’s known to be made of marble!”

Scowling at his Courfeyrac, Enjolras shook Grantaire’s hand and in a very formal way said,

“This is a wonderful exhibition, I’m honored to be able to meet the artist behind the wonderful works of art.”

“Enjolras,” Courfeyrac said, “you’re sounding like a grandpa again. You’re 20, not 80! Grantaire isn’t going to bite! That is, not unless you want him to!” Both of them blushed slightly at the comment, and Enjolras looked back to Grantaire and said,

“I’m sorry if I’m too formal. The boys are trying to stop me whenever it happens. I have to say, you don’t know how much I respect you."

“You…respect me?”

“Yes! Look at what you’ve done! Most artists would focus on making their pictures all pretty and fancy, just to make the commissioner happy! I can see real feeling in yours though! It’s like the words bleed out of the painting!” Grantaire could see now why Enjolras was the leader of their group- words came so easily to him. Grantaire couldn’t help but feel jealousy at the man’s speaking skills.

“I-I was just painting what I saw…I wasn’t trying to make a statement...” Grantaire still could not believe that this great leader felt respect for him, a young artist. Five minutes into the conversation and Grantaire could already feel attraction and fondness for this handsome leader.

“Yes, that’s what Courfeyrac told me, and that just makes you all the more respectable. You see things for how they truly are, and you don’t need to lie or exaggerate anything for others to see the same message.” Grantaire felt so amazed by what Enjolras was saying. While many had come to admire his pieces and his talent, none had ever complimented him in such a way about his character.

“Thank you. That really means a lot.” There was so much that Grantaire wanted to tell him; that he was the first to actually think about the artist and not just the artwork; that he could understand why Enjolras was such a perfect choice for leading their group.

Courfeyrac saw the hesitation in Grantaire’s eyes and spoke up to Enjolras. “Sorry Apollo…R’s not really one to talk a lot. He means well though. Anyways, I’d best be going. Eponine is expecting me to pick her up for dinner.” Eponine was another member of Grantaire’s group of friends and Courfeyrac’s girlfriend. To be honest, there were times when, despite being perfect for each other, Grantaire wondered how the two came together. Eponine was sarcastic, witty, and most times pessimistic. Courfeyrac was the complete opposite. A ray of sunshine, a child at heart, and seeing the best in people. They met in the middle, however, and brought out the best in each other.

“Courfeyrac, I’m actually going to come with you,” Enjolras said, “I’ve got to get home early before a meeting in the morning. Would you mind giving me a ride?”

“Of course not. Bye ‘Taire.” Looking back at Grantaire, Enjolras paused a moment before adding,

“Would you like to come to one of our meetings Grantaire? I know that you’re not really a speaker, and you’ve never shown interest before, but I also think you’d fit well with our group of friends.” Grantaire knew immediately that despite his lack of care for these activist issues, he could not let Enjolras walk out of his life, as he had let so many do before.

“I’ll be there. Where and when?”

“Tomorrow, 7 o’clock, ABC Café.”

Two months had passed, and Grantaire was now as much a member of Les Amis as Courfeyrac was. While he would sometimes sketch some simple posters to promote upcoming rallies, no one in the group could see a true motivation for him being there. He did not show interest in many of the causes they worked for, and he rarely spoke. Overall he seemed to be nothing more than a distraction from the meetings for the rest of the Amis. This in turn bothered Enjolras greatly. He could see that Grantaire was special, and could see that he could contribute so much to the group if he tried. However, the younger man seemed to have no real direction for his life, and this often caused disagreements between the two.

Most times, it wasn’t really a disagreement, because Grantaire found trouble in forming counter arguments that didn’t in fact make him sound like an idiot. With his feelings for Enjolras growing with ever speech the marble man (as Courfeyrac never stopped calling him) made, and Grantaire’s lack of speaking skills, he soon began to turn towards alcohol. It happened right in front of anyone, without anyone noticing until it was almost too late. Grantaire would arrive at the café in high spirits, having previously convinced himself that tonight, Enjolras would see him for who he truly was, like the night that they met. Still, Grantaire never gave up hope, and one particular night, Enjolras told Grantaire that he had to believe in something, and Grantaire thought back to something that Enjolras said the night that they met.

It was then that the plan began to form in Grantaire’s mind. It would be the biggest thing he’s done yet. While the projects for New York and France were large in essence, he would have a much more personal investment in this project. He was essentially done with school, he had been paid a large sum of money, and he had the support of his parents. Therefore, he could afford to take this time and make this gesture. This would be his love declaration to Enjolras.

It took more time and effort than he had ever put into a project. He spent all hours of the day, and soon disappeared from all of the meetings. Many of his friends began to worry, thinking something bad had happened, causing him to miss the meetings. Courfeyrac and Eponine only found out when they forced him to let them into his apartment, and he realized he needed some help in order to achieve his master plan. Courfeyrac helped with the logistics of the surprise, and Eponine and he teamed up to help him with his lifelong struggle.

Two months later, it was finally time. To one who didn’t know them well, it would seem as if the fighting and snapping (on Enjolras’ part) had escalated so greatly that there was no hope. However, to Grantaire and Courfeyrac- who was the resident romantic of the group- it was clear that Enjolras’ behavior was so extreme only because he truly cared for Grantaire. On the night, Grantaire, Eponine and Courfeyrac arrived at the café extra early. As Courfeyrac very kindly set up, Grantaire used the time to try and calm his racing nerves and heartbeat. Eponine kindly whispered words of encouragement, as the waited for Enjolras to arrive knowing he was always first to arrive before the meetings.  
“Come on R, you can do this. Stand up now, and get ready, like we practiced.” Eponine knew that Grantaire could do it. She had seen him struggle with using words to express himself many times over the years, but she also knew that he had never been more afraid of letting something get away.

Grantaire stepped into place, in the middle of it all, and took a deep breath as they hear the slamming of the café’s front door downstairs, and the determined footsteps making their way up the stairs, counting down the moment he had been imagining for the past two months.

Enjolras marched up the stairs, his usual determined look ever present. However, he stopped in his tracks, and his face softened when he saw Grantaire, and the set up of the Café’s back room. The back room had been turned into an impromptu exhibition of Grantaire’s artwork. This wasn’t any artwork though. As Enjolras looked around the room, he noticed paintings which all represented moments that he and Grantaire had shared. Starting on the left side of the room, he saw that Grantaire had repainted the photo of the children’s orphanage. This time though, he added two hands shaking for the first time in front of the painting. One had a glowing quality to it, and the other one, looking lifeless, beginning to ‘glow’ as well starting where the hands where joined. The message was obvious. The entrance of Enjolras into Grantaire’s life had brought him back to life after spending two years laboring for the two great cities. Other photos showed other moments in their friendship and also moments where they were fighting. One thing was beyond a doubt though- every photograph captured the exact feeling of Grantaire in that moment. It was so precise that there was not even a moment to guess it. At the end of the room, there were several empty frames. Looking back to Grantaire, Enjolras saw him take a deep breath before stepping forward and saying the words he and Eponine had been practicing for weeks,

“I know I’m not good with words, and I know that I’ve disappointed you. However, you told me, on the night we met, that ‘words bleed from the paintings” that I create. You told me that I believe in nothing, but that’s not true. I believe in you. Every week, I come to meeting after meeting, yet you say I believe in nothing. Yes, I may not believe in the causes that you talk about, but I’m there every time because I believe in you. I know you may not feel the same way, but I needed to show you that I did have a purpose in my life and that was art, and always being by your side- as long as you’ll permit it to be so. They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, so I make you as many as I could. I wanted to show you how much you’ve affected my life. For the positive. I know that I’m terrible at speaking, but I figured that if each picture was worth a thousand words, you deserved dozens of my pictures.”

Enjolras stood by silently listening to all this. Despite his group of friends, and those who stood by him in their causes, he had never felt like anyone who was there for him, who actually cared about him. Now, here in front of him, was Grantaire. Laying down his heart, in a way that he both excelled and struggled. Grantiare, whom he had grown to care for so much, who infuriated him for not seeing what was right in front of him. Now though, he thought that maybe he was the one to be oblivious.

He slowly walked up to Grantaire, took his hand in his, and said to him,

“I think you’re going to need new frames, because those are going to be filled with many more memories quite soon.” He then crashed his lips to Grantaire’s.

Looking up at the piercing blue eyes of Enjolras, Grantaire leaned in again, but not before saying,

“I’m yours, if you’ll permit it?”


End file.
